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+ Sons of Dorn Challenge the 1st +

Dosjetka

By Dosjetka
in + IMPERIAL FISTS +

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Marshal Mattias Venerable Brother

Marshal Mattias

Posted
Posted
Better idea: I'm writing the fluff for my 5 various Sons of Dorn. (None are actually IF, they are in fact all successors. Reasons will become apparent later on). It's a bit long already, (pushing 2000 words), but I should finish it off soon enough for the end of the challenge. Then they will all get painted in the ETL, but I'll be sure to pop them in here too just for fun.
Lachdannan Venerable Brother

Lachdannan

Posted
Posted

+++

 

Data Retrieved...

 

Chapter personnel profile...

 

...

 

Access granted...

 

Captain of the Imperial Fists 5th Company, Master of the Marches. Brother Captain Lachdannan.

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3180_zpsm9v3dwr3.jpg

 

 

   

Captain Lachdannan has been in active service for 128 Terran years. Recruited on the Hive World of Necromunda, Lachdannan established himself as a competent marksman in the ranks of 10th Company. His first engagement saw him and his squad pitted against the Traitor Iron Warriors Legion on the agri world Cernunnos. Against insurmountable odds, Lachdannan alone was the sole survivor of his squad after their recon mission, having successfully sabotaged and blown a dam onto the Traitor Legion's supply line.

 

It was in his 7th year as a full fledged marine that he earned the Marksmanship honour for eliminating a mob of Nobz in defence of the citizens of Meloncha. This deployment also saw him rise to the command of his squad. In the aftermath of this ddeployment, Brother Lachdannan was selected from the hopefuls of the Chapter to be re-deployed to the Deathwatch. Below is his transcribed Apocryphon Oath.

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/Lachdannans%20Deathwatch%20Oath_zpsgtqk1ybd.jpg

 

It was during his tenure with the Deathwatch that Lachdannan was groomed for greater command and responsibilities, and he did honour to the chapter during the hundreds of deployments with the Deathwatch. It was his last deployment however, where he lost his eye to the Horror of Lynchos. Although he managed to overcome the beast and help his Deathwatch Brothers kill it, it also coincided the death of his Mentor, Captain Sharroth of the Raven Guard Chapter. 

 

When brother Lachdannan was returned to the chapter, his was immediately assigned to the 5th Companies Honour Guard. It was here that we was further groomed for command, and took over the responsibilities of the 5th Company of his 84th year. To this date, he and his company have upheld the tenets of Rogal Dorn, and stood against the implacable night assailing humanity. 

 

+++

 

File incomplete...

 

Data retrieval ended...

 

+++

 

Hope you liked that little break from the norm! I just finished painting up my entry. It was a very simple one, where I had to paint up a character. I just thought I'd write a little backstory as well. 

 

Here are some proper pics of my Captain Lachdannan.

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3179_zpsngveypps.jpg

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3185_zpsz59rkxqv.jpg

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3181_zpsu99cgwff.jpg

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3182_zpssuzmskef.jpg

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3183_zpsxcz1ns5c.jpg

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb383/lachdan/DSCF3184_zpsqkjylrdi.jpg



 



 

I'm rather happy with how he turned out. A lovely addition to my forces. So with Oath fulfilled, I'll move onto prepping for the ETL.

 

Thanks for looking!

 

Cheers!

Marshal Mattias Venerable Brother

Marshal Mattias

Posted
Posted

My submission:

 

 

 

 

Sword Brother Reric de Conta stood still as a statue under the flickering glare of a faulty light. Such a small thing, probably just a loose connection, but it irritated him. He would find a servitor to repair it upon his return. If they weren't busy with more important repairs, of course. The constant rumble of the engines, along with the shaking of cannon fire and returning impacts had become unremarkable to him after so many months in orbit. The conflict had been ongoing for even longer, but his mission had led him far and wide, only now bringing him back to the front lines. A what a strange mission it was. He had argued at first; now that he looked back on it he couldn't imagine his own insolence at that behaviour. The High Marshal himself had called on him, who was he to question that? But still, it had taken him away from his brothers of many years, and not all of them were still alive when he had returned. And it had seemed so pointless.

 

"Why must we look outside the chapter for these warriors? I could have four of my brothers armed and ready in minutes! Who better to fight at my side than those I trust?"

 

Helbrecht had been unusually patient with him.

"This is no ordinary task, brother. You above all your kin have the experience to lead this mission, it is true. Your escape from the prison-ship over Thantos was most ingenious. You understand the working of engines and devices in a way only the Masters of the Forge could surpass, and your years of void combat have honed your martial skills beyond most of your brethren. But I need others like you if this plan is to work. I don't ask you to trust anyone other than the truest Sons of Dorn himself, do not insult them or the Primarch by your rash judgements. You must find the best among them, and above all they must be like you - survivors, blessed with good fortune by the Emperor. You will understand why when the time comes. Now, your mission is clear, you may begin immediately."

 

The first he had found was the easiest. Veteran Sergeant Rafael of the Crimson Fists. Reric glanced down at his own left gauntlet. The crimson paint was beginning to wear away, flecks of black showing through once again. Another task for his return. The two Astartes had fought together in the gruelling Declates crusade. Both had been elevated due to their acts of heroism in that campaign. The losses to both chapters had been extraordinary, but the toll they had inflicted on the orks was greater. The sergeant had been the last man standing from his original tactical squad. Reric had stumbled over a ridge to find Rafael using his bolter as a club to beat back the mob of orks who had surrounded him. Out of ammunition, and weary, it was the cry of "No Pity! No Remorse" which had renewed the blue-clad warriors spirit in time to survive the coming melee. Reric had arrived like a charging bull, pistol blazing and his ceramite pauldron cracking the skull of the first ork to leap at him. The two sons of Dorn had trekked several miles over rubble and mud together to reach the ork artillery. Sharing ammunition, they had silenced the crews before they knew what had hit them. The Fist then jury-rigged an impressive firework display from the crude assortment of ordnance. The main Ork assault had crumbled shortly after the bombardment was ceased.

Reric looked to his right, the flickering light causing shadows to leap and dance across the marine stood there. The deep crimson of his armoured helm was unmistakeable, the black-and-red Templar cross upon his knee honouring the brother he had fought and bled alongside. He had been quick to pledge himself, and his Captain had reluctantly agreed to allow him to join Reric's team until Rafael deemed his debt fulfilled. It was good that he was here, Reric felt sure he would need him and the Crimson Fist was a veritable expert in the field of demolitions.

 

The next had been difficult. It had required inspiring words - a great many of them in fact - and that was not Reric's speciality. He had requested assistance from a more eloquent brother in arms, none less than Chaplain Grimaldus. That was before he was sent to the surface on his doomed mission to that accursed city. Reric felt a momentary pang of loss - if the chaplain truly did not return, he would be sorry for it. It was Grimaldus who had secured the second of his team and a warrior Reric had come to view with the utmost of respect. Brother Gaius was the last of his kind. There was something about that fact that lent him an incredible core of strength. But he wasn't always that way. When the Imperials had first found him, they had hardly believed their eyes. Floating unnoticed in orbit around the desolate planet that had once held a towering fortress monastery, now just a shattered ruin, was a single stasis pod. The warrior inside was gravely injured and mid-transport when the vessel carrying him had made a split-second decision to jettison the entire contents of the bay holding his sealed pod. As the vessel was destroyed moments later, the single pod went unnoticed in the wreckage. For nearly ten years, it charted a course that saw it circling its former home, coming close to devastating collision more than once. Eventually, a routine Militarum patrol had spotted a faint signal and investigated. Though the small blackened viewport, they could see the unmistakeable purple and silver hue of a dead chapter.

The Astartes inside was awoken in an inquisitorial facility. His early interrogation corroborated what they already believed - here was the last of the Shadow Wolves. When he learned of what had befallen his brothers, the utter extinction of his beloved chapter, he was silent. Days, he passed in meditation, until finally he spoke, requesting a position in the Deathwatch. Given his clean bill of health, the Ordo saw no reason to refuse.

His first few missions saw him throwing himself headlong at the enemy, recklessly and with no regard for his safety. After each mission, the team would voice concern about his motives, and refuse to work with him again. Eventually, Master of the Vigil himself was required to step in. A long conversation was held behind closed doors. Rumours since suggest that the subject of the Blackshields was raised. If a loyal brother could still fight for the Emperor, knowing that his entire chapter had betrayed all he believed in, then it was a failure for brother Gaius to chase death when his brethren died upholding that honour. When he walked from that room, he was different. In truth, he was what the Shadow Wolves were once famed for. He was pragmatic, facing death and staring it down. He endured countless suicidal missions but somehow always came through them. His dogged determination to keep his chapter alive and fighting was incredible, and if anything his martial prowess only increased as he worked alongside such exceptional brethren. In a few short years, he had carved out a reputation as a natural survivor and a gifted member of the strike-team.

He was particularly adept with his multi-melta, lugging the heavy weapon alongside his teammates. His patience and pragmatism made him the ideal support member - he would always pick his shot with exceptional timing, ensuring his target was crippled and no longer a threat. This approach kept his team alive on more than one occasion, and it was this that marked him out to Reric. Gaius, however, was not interested in leaving the brotherhood he had forged among the Deathwatch. They were a replacement for his chapter, giving him purpose. It was only the moving tale that Grimaldus told - as he had personally witnessed the death of the Shadow Wolves as he fought to try and save them - that convinced Gaius to fight alongside the Templars as his brothers once did. His chapter, such as he was, had a duty to uphold. He swore his service to them, and promised to return to the deathwatch should he complete his mission.

That made them three.

 

Number four was a more tragic specimen, worse by the fact that his sad tale was still being woven. The Celestial Lions had deployed heavily in the defence of Armageddon, but something was not right. They were being taken apart piecemeal by friend and foe alike, more times than could be explained. Pride-leader Adembi could only be described as an optimist. On initial deployment, he was aboard a Thunderhawk transporter which was shot down by imperial defences in an apparent accident. Scores of lives and equipment were lost, but Adembi walked away from the crash without any injury. Several days later, his Pride were ambushed by ork kommandos in a sector marked out as 'secured' by the local platoon. They lost their apothecary to a stray shot and most of the unit was slain by carefully laid explosive charges. How the enemy had time to lay such traps was unclear, but once again Adembi fought his way to safety. Later, the survivors were caught in the open when imperial artillery began bombarding their sector. Unable to raise anyone on the vox, they lost another brother before making their way back to base. Such calamities continued, but Adembi faced them all with a grim determination to do his duty. He was a renowned marksman among his company and designated the squad plasma-operator. When word reached Reric of this apparently emperor-blessed warrior, who continued to survive against all the odds, he felt it prudent to meet him. By now, most of the chapter had already been lost in the fighting. None remained of the brothers Adembi had fought side by side with for many years. He saw the offer of this new position as an opportunity to avenge those he had lost. Unable to contact any of his superiors, he was in direct command of all survivors of his company - namely, himself. With nothing to hold him back, he was swift to bring his skills to the new unit. Of course, since then, more information was coming forth, and his resolve was being sorely tested. Not that you could tell, looking at him stood there, carefully checking the calibration of the sights on his rifle, reciting the litanies of battle to its machine spirit. Reric too had heard what had befallen the Lions. At last count, less than 200 remained. That was effectively extinction for most chapters. Reric felt sympathy for Adembi, but couldn't let that cloud his mind now. He would speak to the high command later, and see what they might offer their brother chapter, considering the dedication that Adembi was serving with.

 

The last of their unusual family was the only member to have sought Reric out, rather than the other way around. Frankly, he was the only link in the chain that Reric wasn't completely certain of. He was a capable warrior, this was true. Rarely had a brother Astartes fought alongside the Templars in the melee and matched them blow-for-blow, with the same zeal and ferocity. And he was honourable, it was true. There was something though; Reric was ashamed to admit to himself that perhaps he was suspicious simply because of the chapter with which Brother Keltath served. The Executioners were a problematic sibling among the sons of Dorn. Their 'betrayal' during the Badab wars was serious and yet forgivable, apparently. They had, foolishly, sworn a powerful oath which had drawn them into a war they wished no part in. It had taken them some time and much bloodshed before they had recognised their error, however. "Your honour is your life."

Reric had heard it more times than he could count. He could relate to his disgraced brothers, really, but he had always followed that litany with the guidance handed down by the first High Marshal, Sigismund himself: "Zeal makes all things possible. Duty makes all things simple." It was the last part that stood out in this situation. Their primary duty should always be to the Emperor, no matter their oaths or allegiances. How had they forgotten this? And what if Keltath was to forget his duty again?

Reric chided himself for his doubts. The rogue chapter had been offered a formal chance at redemption, and so far had already been fighting in penance for eighty-six years. It spoke volumes that Keltath had heard of Reric's mission and seen it as an opportunity to further the redemption of his chapter. He knew the slim odds, but also that playing his part would bring much honour to his troubled brethren. Reric could respect that, and had told him as much, but explained that he needed a very particular type of warrior for this task. He could not offer him a place simply due to his good intentions. Keltath had actually laughed, he suspected as much. He had answered on a private vox-channel, with a single word: "Corcyran."

Reric had stood for a time, just looking at him. The Executioner was slightly larger than the average of the Astartes, and even at rest he stood poised, as if expecting to fight. Reric's eyes took in the multiple blades that were strapped to the battered armour of the penitent warrior, and his keen ears could hear faint whirring sounds from beneath the ceramite plate, suggesting grievous wounds and mechanical replacements. If it were true...

The massacre at Corcyran was legendary. Some had gone so far as to dismiss it as false. A single bloody battleground within a derelict facility, its dark corridors slick with gore and scattered bodies. All of them Astartes, the Ececutioners and Carcharodons. Renowned brutal combatants, over one hundred bodies were supposedly found with no survivors claimed by either side. Truly, if one of the Executioners had triumphed, it would have been unwise for the chapter to make it public knowledge while under such scrutiny. To admit it to Reric even now was risky. He looked him up and down once more, then extended his arm to Keltath.

"Welcome aboard."

 

Now he stood alongside him once more in the flickering light, and was glad he would have such a fighter by his side. A strange band they made for sure;

 

The doubtful, the dutiful, the dead, the dying, and the deathless. Together they were brothers, but they were not the same. A warning beep sounded, and Reric could feel the change in the air as the electrical systems all around them began to power-up.

They had practised for this, to make 'the jump,' as they had taken to calling it. The Thunderhawk would get them as close to the monstrous rok as possible, avoiding the crude AA fire. Upon reaching the exact co-ordinates, they would activate their tele-packs. Strange devices they were, but they seemed reliable enough. Brother Gregor of the forge had been awestruck by the design. He looked almost moved to tears, were it possible for an Astartes to succumb to such emotion. "Nothing like it before... Emperor's mercy, you are blessed just to witness such wonders..."

As long as it worked, Reric would be happy. The packs should drop them at a precise location deep within the winding interiors of the ork rok. The target areas were much too narrow for the use of tactical dreadnought armour, but they expected to experience heavy resistance as well as intense heat from the engines. Gregor had managed to acquire a number of relics from their brothers of the Imperial Fists. He called them 'breaching shields,' these elongated storm shields with firing-slots. Reric rarely carried a shield of any kind, preferring in all honesty to carry a second chainsword. Yet he knew what they expected to face in the darkness, and tightened his grip on the shield. In his other hand: a most arcane piece of tech. A combi-grav, an elegant weapon that made use of both his special munitions and some of the most potent anti-armour technology the crusade possessed. If by some horror it wasn't enough, the unusual melta-weapon carried by Gaius was sure to do the trick. Brother Gregor had been most proud of that one; stripped down and lightened wherever possible, it retained the range of the full weapon while being able to fire accurately on the move. With Adembi's highly-accurate plasma-fire and the burning effect of their bolter rounds, combined with their advanced targeting systems, they would be a force to be reckoned with even in the chaos of low-gravity, near-void combat in the hot, narrow, fume-filled tunnels.

Reric was concerned that they would be slow-moving, but it was sacrifice worth making for the protection of the shield. The suspensor technology contained within it actually made for a surprisingly stable firing platform, meaning their progress would be slow but continuous. If they should make it to the target, they would bring total destruction from the inside to this rok and the countless foul Xenos aboard it. Preventing them from reaching the planet would be a major blow to the enemy.

 

"Ready?"

 

He looked along the line at his comrades. They acknowledged him with a nod.

 

"Jump."

 

The air crackled, and with a low hum and a sudden 'pop,' a faint blue afterglow was all that remained to show they were there.

The legend of the Deathless Sons of Dorn began that day.

 

 

nortran11 Veteran

nortran11

Posted
Posted

I just started a second model. I was in SoCal last week and picked up some new toys at Brookhurst Hobbies, then while I was there my local guy called and told me my Pedro Kantor came in.....so I got out my trusty Dremel and went to work...

 

Chapter Master Vorn Hagen

 

Imperial Fists Chapter Master Vorn Hagen

 

This is my version of Imperial Fists Chapter Master Vorn Hagen. I am going to try to get some primer on him in the next hour or so and hopefully get him all painted by the end of the month.

Marshal Mattias Venerable Brother

Marshal Mattias

Posted
Posted

(Yes indeed, they are intended to be equipped with a combination of high-tech gear that simulates the ruleset for LotD squads. Grey knight teleporters, FW boarding shields, sternguard ammunition, etc. I kind of wanted tie them together a bit as well as fit them into my Templar crusade, so they were formed for a very specific mission during the third war for Armageddon.)

 

Loving the pedro conversion there! He looks great. Not long left to get some paint on him ;)

Gaius Atticus Veteran

Gaius Atticus

Posted
Posted
I must get some photos up. I started my Pedro so must take some pics before I get any further. If I don't get him finished this weekend, I will be off all next Thursday to finish the job (it sounds like my Pedro is going to be Golden Demon standard, but I will be happy if I keep within the lines

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